Roses grow rotten
and die
from the inside out

So do people

You don't have to have cancer
or any disease
to know you're dying,
those who are sick just know
and are dying quicker than you and me

Words and being sad
eat you from the inside out
making you nothing
but a sheet of paper

Until it pours out your fingers
and you take the leap
and lie cold
in the middle of the street